Never Been Happier
by dauntlesszemrys
Summary: Greg Lestrade has never been happier. Sheryl Holmes has never been happier. John Watson has never been grumpier. WARNING! Fem!Lock, may get explicit in future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Greg Lestrade had never been happier in his entire life, it seemed. His shirt was crumpled and his hair stuck up in odd places, but his grin could blind the sun. Sheryl Holmes had also, never been happier in her entire life. Her short black curls stuck around her face and she had an angelic glow about her. She may not have smiled very wide, but she felt invincible and looked it too. John Watson had never been grumpier in his entire life.

He could not remember the last time since uni that he had been kept awake all night to some morons banging on the walls like porn stars. He had put two pillows over his ears, played loud music, AND left for an hour to sit with Mrs. Hudson. They were still at it when he came back. John supposed he should have been happy for Greg and Sheryl for finally just snogging the hell out of each other and getting over the sexual tension. For god's sakes there were times when it seemed that the two of them would just get it on in the middle of the crime scene and sod everyone else watching.

Now they both sat across from each other at the kitchen laboratory station Sheryl occupied and drank cups of tea, just smiling at each other. John ground his teeth behind the paper and wished the awkward silence would end. Sheryl giggled (Sheryl could giggle?) and Greg leaned over the table to lay a kiss on her pale lean lips. John swallowed back vomit and stood from his armchair to walk into the kitchen, accidentally bumping into Greg on the way and interrupting the kiss.

"Sorry mate, just making a cuppa for myself." He said curtly. Sheryl observed his busy form over Lestrade's shoulder and frowned. However, unlike her normal self, she said nothing and just observed him slamming a mug onto the counter and boiling the tea bag in the mug. Someone's mobile buzzed, both Greg and Sheryl checked their phones. Greg looked up at Sheryl and smiled

"Case?" she questioned hopefully. He nodded and she jumped up from the chair. "Fantastic! Wonderful!" She praised. She ran towards the bedroom but curtly turned around. "Care to help me get dressed Greg?" He grinned wider than before and strode over to her like a little puppy on a short leash. John made a distasteful noise into his cup and walked back upstairs to get dressed, knowing full well Sheryl would drag him along in a whirlwind of cadavers and puzzles. He slipped an oatmeal jumper and blue button up out of the closet and laid them on the bed. Why should he be upset about this besides the obvious lack of sleep? He was happy for his friends. They were just friends after all. Friends that occasionally wanted to bang or be banged into the mattress, his subconscious annoyingly reminded him. He heard someone yelp downstairs and clenched his teeth to ignore it. John wanted to shout at the top of his bloody lungs that he had gotten the point, they had fucked each other senseless. Instead, he settled for banging the drawers on his dresser to match their volume and pulling on a new pair of pants and jeans.

By the time the other door opened, Sheryl was quite ready, her mind buzzing with details of the case obtained from Greg's phone. The DI in question had left early so as to not raise suspicion from his fellow yarders. Sheryl and John descended to the street in question and called for a cab to take them to an alleyway near New Scotland Yard. The ride was spent in silence for the most part and Sheryl hardly seemed to notice John's foul mood brewing below the surface. She seemed content to simply stare out the window and smile like the world was her oyster and she had found the only pearl. John now wanted to chuck that pearl into the deepest park of the Thames and keep the oyster for himself. Then again... the pearl wasn't that bad looking either. who ever said he was 100% attracted to oysters? A pearl was nice every now and again.

Author's note bitches!

1) This is my first story that I'm actually posting ANYWHERE and that's a big deal for me so go easy!

2) Tell me what you think and don't be afraid to give commentary!

3) I will update soon I promise! (maybe)

4) I love my wife for making me do this! DahvieVanitygirl you my bitch boo boo!

5) LATERS


	2. Chapter 2

The cab stopped just outside of the tape barrier and Lestrade was waiting for them with a large smile on his face. Sheryl burst from the cab and Lestrade lifted the tape for her, patting her bum discreetly so as to not notify the other of their new… partnership. Sheryl wasn't one to be anyone's girlfriend and Greg had told John several times that, after his divorce, he no longer wanted to be attached to anyone. In essence, fuckbuddies was the only name John could give them.

A dead man lay on the street, pulled out from under a large garbage bin disposal. He wore a pair of lame gold pants and a white A shirt. John swallowed down the bile in his throat as the smell of death and garbage wafted into his nose. He pulled his black jacket collar around his nose and mouth, proceeding forward behind Sheryl. The great and beautiful consulting detective, it seemed, couldn't be bothered by the stench and was only concerned with pushing her short curls out of her large green eyes and pale face to lean next to the cadaver's hands and sniff gingerly. Even Greg was now starting to look a little grey at Sheryl's actions.

"Sher, I need anything you've got dar- hm," Greg began to say darling, but caught himself and coughed awkwardly into his hand. Sheryl smirked and stood to prance around the body. "He's a prostitute working around the park that much is obvious. He had taken care of a fare before being killed by a blunt object to the skull. However, he has no money in his pockets and the state of his knees is quite incriminating so he wasn't finished with his customer. There is a subtle hint of expensive cologne on his wrists, which means a rich customer. He also has a new Rolex gently used, obviously gifted to him by this customer. But why would a customer give him expensive gifts?" She tapped her fingers along her lips thoughtfully. "Of course, their once professional relationship turned into intimacy, no longer paying for his services, but freely giving them. Of course, they would keep it secret; a businessman can't be seen with a prostitute. Maybe a jealous wife discovered the two in the throes of intimacy and decided to... get rid of the competition." Donovan and Anderson joined behind Lestrade and Donovan snorted.

"How do we know his customer is a male, IF you are right, which I doubt."

"Because, Sally, no woman would choose cologne that a man would truly wear so perfectly, nor would she choose a Rolex that complimented his slim form quite as well. Women often make mistakes when buying gifts for their lovers." Sheryl said flatly.

"Sher, I hate to break it to you, but there was hair in his teeth, and it was female." Lestrade said gently. Sheryl dismissed him like she always did when he said something and John's eyes flit between them, already beginning to see the start of some lengthy argument. Whether they liked it or not, they had to watch their mouths around each other from now on. Initiating something as intimate as what they did came with the consequence of more easily hurting the other's feelings. Greg crossed his arms and made a noise in his throat to catch Sheryl's attention, but she ignored it without care, choosing to ignore the new information working against her theory.

"Sheryl?" he said and she again ignored him. He ran his tongue over his teeth and he cocked one eyebrow in annoyance. John felt guilty about looking forward to what was going to happen next, but he couldn't find the room to care. He stifled a giggle with his knuckles and pretended not to smile.

"SHERYL!" Greg yelled. She shot up and stared him down.

"What?" she said, putting emphasis on the t, making it sharp and definite.

"Did you hear me at all? The hair in his teeth was a woman's! It couldn't have been a male customer." He explained, barely keeping a lid on his steady temper.

"I heard you, but you're wrong so it is inconsequential. He is a prostitute; OF COURSE he has hair in his mouth! He has other clients you know!" She said in a huff, desperate to prove she was right.

"But if he truly loved his client, then wouldn't he save himself for that one client?"

"He has to make a living doesn't he?"

"Are you so desperate to prove your point?"

"Are you so desperate to show you're not THAT much of a MORON?"

"You weren't calling me a moron last night now were you?"

"I'VE HAD BETTER!"

"HAVE NOT! YOU WERE A VIRGIN WHEN I MET YOU DON'T LIE!" Greg shouted in her face. They were barely two inches apart, nose to nose. Sheryl recoiled, a single tear running down her face. She brought her hand back and brought it hard across his mouth and jaw.

"Bastard," she muttered and stomped over the body and out back to the street, heel clicking behind her. Greg's own hand lifted to the reddening handprint on his mouth and ran his hand through his hair, breathing out shakily. John tore himself in two, between being happy that the Sheryl was mad at Lestrade and wanting the two to be happy again. He placed a hand on Lestrade's shoulder and the DI shook his head.

"Fuck this isn't good." He growled, more at himself than anyone else. John turned around to head in Sheryl's direction and caught sight of Anderson, very pale and very surprised. He pointed in Sheryl's direction then at Lestrade in question, pulling an ugly face of desperate confusion. Donovan, on the other hand, looked mighty and smug. It was no secret that the sergeant secretly wanted her boss but Lestrade had no interest in her. John glared at her and the smug smile dropped from her face to be replaced with a frown. Donovan, fortunately, was smart enough not to truly bring any harm to Sheryl, lest the DI and the doctor run her out of the country.

"Greg, she probably found her way to the flat by now. Talk to Sheryl and fix this," John said, leading the bedraggled copper to the street and hailing a cab. John wanted to hit himself for suggesting the compromise, but he hated seeing Sheryl upset by anything.

A cab pulled up to the curb and the two men piled into the warm confines of the car. Anderson ran up before John could be fully seated in the vehicle and said, "are they actually a couple or am I dreaming?" John rolled his eyes in reply.

"Deduce it yourself," he replied and slammed the door as the car sped away, leaving two very confused yarders in the exhaust. The ride was quiet as Lestrade contemplated his speech in the other seat. John could smell his cologne, a kind that Sheryl kept in her medicine cabinet for "undisclosed reasons" whatever that meant. He breathed in sharply and clenched his fists into his thigh, really regretting the decision to have Lestrade apologize. He was just egging this little fiasco on. He looked over at the silver haired man to his left and really took in the man's handsome profile. He was handsome, and John especially appreciated that. He had glowing skin that tanned easily and silvery brown hair that made him look like a distinguished gentleman and not at all an old man. He stayed fit and muscular from all the years as a cop and John imagined what his arms looked like until they stopped outside the flat.

"Damn John I don't think I can do this," Lestrade said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. John patted the other man on the knee and disembarked.

"You'll be fine mate. Just… watch what you say." They entered the door and heard angry screeching coming from the flat, the sound descending down the staircase. They ascended slowly until reaching the main living space and knocking ever so slightly on the doorframe.

"Sheryl? Sheryl I'm so sorry for what I said I didn't mean it and," Lestrade began. Sheryl turned towards him, practically throwing down the instrument she had previously been torturing and, in a flash of long limbs, slapped Lestrade twice across the face for the second time that day. However she didn't allow a reaction time for the poor sod and slammed her lips into his forcefully, gripping the lapels of his coat. John's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose into his hairline, disbelieving what exactly he was seeing. Had she forgiven him? It didn't seem likely coming from the woman who could hold a grudge for 27 years and counting against her own brother.

She let Lestrade go and he would have stumbled back if not for her long skeletal fingers bunched in the fabric of his coat, preventing escape.

"Sheryl?" Greg questioned, his voice rising in pitch.

"You need to be punished," She said tantalizingly, attacking the man's neck and biting down on the side near the jugular vein. He made a noise somewhere in between yelp and moan and she pulled him back into the flat and to the couch, tossing him down by using his own gravitational force. John awkwardly shifted from foot to foot and stared at the floor.

"I'll just leave then," he said, hoping that Sheryl or Greg would take notice of him and possibly include him too, feeling impossibly left out. Sheryl sat up on Greg's chest and he groaned as she pulled the tie from his collar and tied up his hands over his head. Apparently that would be the only response he got out of either of them so he took his cue and left the flat in a rush. Maybe he could go to Sarah's place for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

John ended up walking to Sarah's and knocked on the door. It was a nice house, one story with pink shutters and bushes lining the walkway in front. It had a simple layout and John could imagine raising a few kids in a house like this with someone. Sarah opened the door and John launched himself at her, kissing her gently. Sarah said something against his lips and pushed him away in a kindly fashion.

"John what are you doing?!" she asked worriedly. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

"Wanted to see you," he muttered halfheartedly. He scuffed the heel of his shoe into the pavement. He hadn't felt one spark. There wasn't one feeling in his body for Sarah other than mutual friendship and he hated that. He hated that he wasn't man enough to admit his feelings for Sheryl. That he wasn't man enough to say he wouldn't mind snogging the hell out of Greg Lestrade. He hated that those two individuals, both so bloody gorgeous in their own unique ways, had found each other and left him in the cold to wallow in self-pity.

"It's Sheryl isn't it? Finally realized you have feelings for her and something happened?" Sarah said quietly, inviting John to come inside and sit on the couch while she made them both a cuppa. Good understanding Sarah, highly underestimated as a doctor and friend. John wanted to explain to her that it wasn't just Sheryl that it was Greg too. He wanted to have both, and not feel like a third wheel. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to say anything other than thanks as she handed him a red and pink teacup.

"She seems to have found someone… else." He said. She nodded and sipped at her tea in thought.

"So, you're jealous and want her to leave him for you?"

"Not exactly…"

"So you want him to leave her for you?"

"Not exactly…"

"What are you telling me John? You like both of them and want both of them?"

"Uh-huh,"

"Wow… so basically, in essence, you want to be in a group relationship? Everyone dates everyone and everyone wins?"

"Maybe; is that a bad thing?" He bit his lip and played with the frayed hem of his oatmeal jumper. She seemed to be swallowing the entire concept of the situation.

"John Watson wants a threesome," she said, laughing into her cup. John squawked, and then blushed; realizing she was right and he did, in fact, want just that.

"It just pisses me off that they don't notice me at all! Nothing exists outside of their little fuck bubble!" John sounded like a teenage girl and couldn't bring himself to care about it that much. She soothingly rubbed his back as he got caught up in his own angst.

"Why don't you just ask?"

"Are you KIDDING ME? I can't just walk up to them in the throes of intimacy and say won't you have a threesome with me? It's ridiculous!" He threw his hands into the air, imagining the scenario ending with moving boxes and having to live at Harry's. Okay, maybe that was overly dramatic.

"Well when you say it like that," she said sarcastically, putting emphasis on that. John looked up at her and frowned deeply, pursing his lips in annoyance. "Ok so maybe the forward and center approach isn't exactly the way to go but you get the point! At the very least you can just try to ignore it and go find another date. My friend Catherine has just been dying to go out with someone after her ex-boyfriend broke up with her three weeks ago." John sighed and stood up, the clock in the corner ringing out at 4 o' clock.

Sarah led him to the door and opened it for him. He barely remembered to say thank you but somehow the words were out of his mouth before he could think about them. He started down the street with his hands in his jacket pockets and contemplated what exactly he would do when he got home. Would he just walk upstairs and ignore them or face what he wanted and confide in his two friends. What would they say? John figured Sheryl might be a tad more open minded to it than Greg would, as Sheryl experimented with anything and everybody. Would Lestrade become territorial, despite reiterating over and over again his dislike of monogamy?

John eventually made his way back to the flat and mounted the stairs to the living room upstairs. The air was hot, even from the stairwell and the entire place reeked of sweat; great. He would have to aerate the ENTIRE flat from top to bottom if he wanted to sleep comfortably. Muffled noises got louder as he moved, ascending upwards. There was a loud thud that indicated something-or someone- had hit the floor. A groan followed that and someone got hit by something. John's heart skipped a beat at the thought that Greg might actually be hitting Sheryl. He booked it the rest of the way and ran into the room.

"SHERYL! ARE YOU-ooh," His eyes widened and he wanted to look away but he couldn't. Lestrade lay over top of Sheryl on the floor beside the couch, her chest thrown up against his, both of them completely naked, and a complete view of Lestrade's previously not before seen tattoos. Lestrade looked up from Sheryl's face and blushed furiously, looking around for something to cover both of their forms. Sheryl gripped his chin and turned his face down to look at her. She moved her hips up and Greg's eyes closed. Obviously dissatisfied, Sheryl shook his face to get his attention.

"This. Is the best…. Hnng… I've ever had and there is no damn way you are stopping now without… ah… finishing… what we started… mmm," She ordered him. John was mortified and stared at the floor with wide eyes, urging his unwilling legs to move and not give way beneath him. He bolted up to his bedroom and locked the door behind himself with a defined click. John felt the tips of his ears; they felt almost like someone had taken an open match to them. Embarrassment turned to shame and shame turned to anger. The two wankers hadn't even stopped when he walked in. They just kept going at each other right in front of him with no care or worry at all. Was he that unimportant to her; to them? He changed into his pajamas quickly, trying to ignore his basic bodily reaction to the show downstairs and curled around his knees under the warm navy blankets of his bed. He fell asleep, angry thoughts running through his head. Angry at Sheryl, angry at Greg, and angry at himself for having no spine whatsoever, AND HE'D INVADED AFGAHNISTAN!


	4. AN

**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a bit finals week is hell! Don't forget to share this story with your followers and all that shit and if you like the story, I. NEED. FEEDBACK! Leave a review pretty please! Love you crazy fuckers! Next chapter will be the last chapter! **


	5. Chapter 4

John woke up, tangled like a human pretzel in his bed sheets. All the anger from the night before washed through his mind and he growled at the ceiling. He undid himself from his sheets and sat up to put his feet on the cold wood floor. It was most likely that Greg had stayed over AGAIN. John grumbled and rubbed his eyes, banishing the fog of sleep. Standing up on shaky legs, he made to exit his room and ran into the door. Right, he'd locked it. He twisted the dial on the door and turned the knob clockwise slowly, hoping that maybe they were both sleeping. He crept down the stairs and turned the corner for the kitchen crossing both fingers. Instead of opening his eyes to an empty kitchen, he found Greg Lestrade shirtless, wearing thin pants and Sheryl Holmes wearing his shirt and ONLY his shirt.

John got a good look and the copper's ink where he'd been unfortunately deprived yesterday. On his hipbones disappearing under his waistband, were revolvers pointing down and on his shoulder was a New Scotland Yard badge. He also seemed to have a galaxy over his heart and it looked vaguely familiar to John, like his eyes had gazed at it before during one point.

Greg coughed into his hand and John shook himself out of his trance. Sheryl had somehow stepped behind Greg in the few seconds John was mentally gone and had her hands planted just fingertip deep underneath the waistband of Lestrade's grey pants. The doctor gulped and smoothed down his flannel pajama bottoms with sweaty palms. He was still angry. He was angry that Sheryl had forgiven Greg so goddamn quickly. He was angry that they had the audacity to rub their relationship in his pitiful face. John Watson was angry at himself for not taking Sarah's advice.

Sheryl stared at John and licked the shell of Greg's ear in a wanton manner. The other man groaned and turned his head to greet her open mouth with tongue and hot breath. John nodded stiffly and walked quickly into the living room to find the riding crop in the corner. Returning to the countertop, he brought the leather instrument down to make a loud thwack. Startled, Greg jumped out of the kiss and Sheryl turned to John with an amused expression.

"That is IT! I am so tired of you two snogging each other's brains out and shagging so loud the entire city can hear you! Neither of you give even one consideration to the people around you ESPECIALLY ME. You do know I exist, correct? Because when you two are in a room together I immediately turn invisible! For God's sakes I'm lonely and single and bored too but NOOO no one wanted to ask how I was or if I had any feelings. And how am I expected to not feel lonely with you two being so bloody gorgeous? Sheryl with her cheekbones and Greg with his perfect hair and your eyes; and now I'm not making any sense at all because I'm so angry! Shit bugger shit shit fuck goddamn. I need a cup of tea." John let out a heavy breath and slammed the cabinets to pull out tea bags and a mug.

Suddenly a hot body pressed up behind him and hands pushed the tea items out of the way. John closed his eyes in a flutter of brown eyelashes.

"Poor John, how could I not have realized? He's so upset because he didn't get his fair share. Is that what you want baby? Do you want to be my boyfriend too?" Sheryl whispered in his ear, though loud enough for Lestrade to hear, who was now moving to stand in front of John and rest his large hands on the shorter man's hips.

"I think he does darling. Is that what you want Johnny?" Lestrade asked in his perfect vanilla tone. John groaned and nodded, not trusting his voice with the response. Sheryl laughed and dragged both men by the ear to her bedroom.

Greg Lestrade had never been happier. His lips were swollen and he had his arms filled with the two people he loved the most. Sheryl Holmes had never been happier. Her entire body was sore and she got to be with the two men she could always tolerate. Finally, John Watson had never been happier. He got what he wanted and the next day, thanked Sarah for her excellent advice. Sarah just grinned and sipped her coffee while john walked through the clinic with a minute limp most likely not psychosomatic.


	6. AN 2

**A/N: Thanks for reading lovelies! I may or may not post a sequel to this story, it just depends if you want to see more or not! ZE**


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